


Fremont Street Experience

by ClaraxBarton



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Flirting, Las Vegas, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Multi, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, One Night Stand, Sass, Sort of? - Freeform, great way to make a first impression at a new job, no powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-06-29 15:53:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15732633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/pseuds/ClaraxBarton
Summary: Special Agent Steve Rogers has been reassigned to Las Vegas.Tomorrow he starts work.Tonight... tonight he makes a few mistakes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luvsanime02](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/gifts), [Kangofu_CB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/gifts).



  
  


Steve looked around his apartment, at the single precarious tower of boxes - all five of them - and at the two duffel bags sitting beside the boxes, and was reminded of just how fucking pathetic his life was.

 

He didn’t know what was more sad - the fact that it had only taken him thirty-six hours to pack up his entire life and move from DC to Las Vegas, or the fact that Phil Coulson, his supervisor, had  _ known _ Steve would be able to do it.

 

_ We found most of Ramirez in a dumpster at the Bellagio. You don’t have a family, or a personal life to speak of. We need you out there immediately. _

 

Which… was maybe a compliment to Steve’s skills, but could just as easily have been Coulson’s way of telling Steve just how little he mattered - finding most of Steve in the dumpster next wouldn’t make the FBI sweat too much, probably.

 

Still. It had to at least be  _ slightly _ complimentary. 

 

Steve had earned a reputation in the Bureau, even back as a trainee at Quantico when, despite his depressingly diminutive stature, he had taken on two burly recruits who wanted to prove to Steve just how little he belonged. The recruits had been washed out after they were released from medical, and no one had messed with Steve for the rest of his time there. 

 

And afterwards - well, Steve was born fighting, as his mother had always said - and now that he had a badge, he was just able to pick more and more fights. He had been assigned to an anti-terrorism unit for the first three years of his service, and had worked his ass off to arrest would-be terrorists and, in a few depressing cases, successful terrorists after the fact.

 

He had asked for a transfer, though, when an opening became available in the Criminal Enterprise Branch. He had started off working on the Americas unit, but one thing had led to another, and Steve, who had grown up in Brooklyn speaking Spanish, Korean and enough Russian to get by, had taken enough language classes to do more than get by with his Russian. And now he was working in the International unit, under Phil Coulson, a legend in the Bureau. 

 

Which, five years later, was how Steve found himself standing in an empty apartment close enough to the Las Vegas strip that he could see the flash of neon lights through his closed blinds. 

 

Tomorrow, he would start his new job. Tomorrow, he would join a task force headed by Clint Barton that existed for one reason and one reason only - eliminate HYDRA’s presence in Las Vegas.

 

The task force had been established three years ago, when Tony Stark -  _ the  _ Tony Stark, heir to a multi-trillion dollar corporation that manufactured weapons, among other, less murdery things - had been kidnapped by the organization and held for ransom for three months before he had escaped on his own. Stark had funneled money into the FBI, telling them that he wanted HYDRA gone, and had then turned the entire Stark organization upside down by dumping their weapons program, firing the board, and investing most of the Stark capital in clean energy.

 

Barton’s task force had had mixed success, but Barton was an agent who never knew when to quit, even when the people around him had given up or been murdered or been found out to be on HYDRA’s payroll.

 

Steve respected the man, who he had met twice - both times at weapons training courses - and he was almost looking forward to working with him.

 

What he wasn’t looking forward to was unpacking his meager possessions, or laying awake in the bed of the thankfully furnished apartment and trying not to dream.

 

So he grabbed his wallet and his keys and decided to visit the Strip.

 

After all, tomorrow he would start his job. Tonight was his only chance to play tourist.

 

-o-

 

After two hours of walking the Strip, stopping to watch the Bellagio fountains but unable to appreciate them without thinking of the fact that  _ some _ of Ramirez was still out there somewhere, Steve made his way to old, downtown Las Vegas. 

 

It still bustled with tourists, people eager to experience a cheaper, slightly seedier side of the city, but Steve was able to find a bar that was  _ almost _ a hole in the wall.

 

_ Don’t Tell Mamas _ .

 

It was a cabaret, with singers whose performances bordered on burlesque, and Steve settled into a booth and offered the buxom waitress who flirted with him a sympathetic smile.

 

“Well hello, darlin’. You all alone tonight, or do you have company coming to join you?”

 

“Just me. I’ll have a gin and tonic.”

 

“Alright. Be right back with that, sugar.”

 

She sashayed off, and Steve shook his head and looked around the rest of the dark interior. 

 

Most of the tables were empty, but there were a few filled with couples or parties, all cheering on the woman onstage, performing “I Put a Spell On You” and making it clear that said spell had everything to do with sex.

 

The waitress came back with Steve’s drink.

 

“Paid for by the handsome fellow at the bar,” she said, and winked at Steve before walking away.

 

Steve frowned and looked at the bar, meeting the pale gaze of a man with dark hair and a smirk on his admittedly handsome face.

 

He was wearing a black dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and tight black jeans that looked painted onto his ass and thighs. Black boots completed the look, and Steve felt his mouth go a little dry as the man arched an eyebrow at him.

 

Steve nodded, and the smirk turned into a grin as the man rose to his feet and crossed the bar to slide into the booth across from Steve.

 

“Rosie told me you were all alone. Figured I couldn’t let a gorgeous guy like yourself drink on his own,” the man said in a drawl that was  _ so _ Brooklyn it was painful.

 

“What makes you think I’m interested in spending time with you?” Steve shot back, because he had to, because he was him and this guy was unfairly even  _ more _ attractive close up, and Steve- 

 

Steve knew he checked off a lot of boxes for some guys, guys who liked twinks and thought Steve would be the type of guy to do what he was told and be grateful for any attention.

 

And Steve was  _ not _ that guy. Yeah, he liked to bottom, but he didn’t like to do what he was told, and he wasn’t the type to play up the fact that he was short and thin. 

 

The guy only grinned more broadly, white teeth flashing at Steve in the light of the candle on the table between them. He leaned back in the booth and rested his left arm over the back of it, showing off a tattoo that looked to be an entire sleeve - intricate metal plates that started at his knuckles and continued up past his elbow and under the fabric of his shirt.

 

“You want me to go?” the guy asked, body language making it clear he had no intention of moving.

 

“Would you if I said yes?”

 

“Yeah. I’m not interested in forcing myself on anyone.” The guy looked offended at the very idea, and Steve relaxed back into his own side of the booth.

 

“Steve,” he offered.

 

“Bucky. So what  _ is _ a gorgeous guy like you doin’ all alone?”

 

“New in town, and you don’t have to keep calling me gorgeous.”

 

“Need a tour guide, then, beautiful?”

 

Steve rolled his eyes.

 

He knew how he looked - knew that his eyes were his best feature, knew his mouth turned on a lot of guys, but no one had ever called him gorgeous. Or beautiful. 

 

Cute, was what he sometimes got. Adorable, which was even worse.

 

“Depends on where the tour leads,” Steve said.

 

Bucky laughed, rich and deep, and it sent an actual shiver down Steve’s spine.

 

It had been awhile for him, that’s all it was. It had been awhile, and this guy - from his smirk to the heat in his eyes to his obscene clothes - was pure sex. Steve was just reacting to that.

 

“Well, what’s your poison? Aside from gin. You want to gamble, see a show, experience the local side of things?”

 

Steve considered it. 

 

What would be the harm? Indulging in flirting with this guy, letting him try to win Steve over?

 

“Take me to your favorite place.”

 

Bucky seemed taken aback by the demand, his smirk slipping and his eyes going narrow. But it was only for a moment.

 

His tongue darted out, wetting his lips, and then he nodded.

 

“Alright. Sure.”

 

Bucky fished out his wallet and laid down what looked to Steve like a ridiculously high tip, and then waited for Steve to down the rest of his drink before standing up.

 

Steve followed him out of the cabaret and down the street, merging into the foot traffic on Fremont Street and then cutting down a side street that had a lot less traffic and a lot less light.

 

Steve hesitated. He usually went around armed, after he had been jumped four years ago by a terrorist group he had been tailing and earned himself a three-month leave while he recovered. But tonight, he hadn’t thought to carry.

 

Bucky noticed his hesitation.

 

“It’s just a few blocks down. Not that you have to go with me. But you’re always gonna wonder, won’t you?”

 

“Wonder what?”

 

“What the hot guy in the bar’s favorite place was.”

 

Steve snorted a laugh and shook his head.

 

It was probably dumb. But Steve always did dumb things.

 

He followed Bucky down the side street, and then another, and another.

 

It was a fifteen-minute walk, which was mostly in silence, and mostly consisted of Bucky walking very close to Steve and smirking at him whenever their hands brushed together.

 

Steve thought his eyes were going to fall out of his head, he was rolling them at Bucky so much, but then-

 

“The Neon Museum?” He read the sign aloud as they stopped in front of it.

 

“Yeah. Most of us locals call it the graveyard or the boneyard. Didn’t used to be an official thing, but it is now, and- anyway. Always been my favorite place.”

 

“What is it exactly?”

 

“Old signs, from all the places ripped down over the years. Vegas is constantly building over itself, hidin’ away the ugly parts and tryin’ to be flashy and fancy. But this- this is real Vegas. All the places everyone forgets.”

 

Bucky sounded… rather different than the cocky, flirtatious man he had introduced himself as, and Steve found himself even more interested in him.

 

“You wanna check it out?” Bucky asked, cocky smirk back on his face.

 

“Why not? You did buy me a drink. Might as well let you show me around this place.”

 

“I’d be happy to show you around any place you want, doll.”

 

“Doll?”

 

“You said not to call you gorgeous, and you looked ready to sock me when I called you beautiful.”

 

“So you thought  _ doll _ was the next best thing?”

 

Bucky grinned.

 

“Don’t know you well enough to call you sweetheart, yet. Maybe in a few hours.”

 

Steve snorted. 

 

“It’s a wonder you’re able to keep your balance with that inflated ego of yours.”

 

Bucky was still grinning as he led the way into the graveyard, insisting on paying for the tickets.

 

It was dark enough out that the neon was the only illumination, and it was, Steve had to admit - to himself, silently - an impressive sight.

 

A little sad, to think of all of these places likely forgotten, just as Bucky had said, and stacked up here, flickering in the desert air, on display for the scant handful of people who cared anymore.

 

“This was the first place I ever went broke in,” Bucky stopped beside a huge red sign, a soft, fond expression on his face.

 

_ Lady Luck Hotel and Casino _ .

 

“Are you about to tell me you then worked your ass off to shut it down and get the sign sent here?”

 

Bucky laughed and shook his head.

 

“No. It got bought out in the early aughts. They remodeled it, and then renamed it. It’s the Grand now. No, this was the place my pop took me, when we moved out here. I was sixteen-”

 

“Too young to legally gamble,” Steve had to point out, and Bucky gave him an eye roll.

 

“My pop gave me twenty dollars, told me to stay away from the blackjack tables and not bother him for the next two hours.”

 

“What did you do?”

 

“Went right to the blackjack tables. At least it took me two hours to lose that twenty, and the forty I had on me.” Bucky shook his head, still wearing that same soft expression. “Man was pop pissed at me. I’ve still got a scar on my ass, he laid into me so hard with his belt.”

 

“That-”

 

“Anyway,” Bucky gestured towards the path, face closing off and tone abruptly changed, “they restored a lot of the old signs up this way. They’re more interesting to look at.”

 

They walked for another two hours, and afterwards, Bucky walked Steve back to the same cabaret and asked if he wanted another drink.

 

“No, but thank you. I had… a good time,” Steve was forced to admit.

 

Bucky smirked.

 

“Glad I could give you a good time,” he winked. “You know, if you want to continue the tour, there’s this great hotel - El Cortez. Historic, great neon sign, hideous carpet in the lobby… old school slots… retro rooms.”

 

“Retro rooms?” Steve repeated, raising his eyebrows.

 

“Hey, just trying to give you a full-service tour.”

 

Steve considered it. He should say no. He really should. 

 

But then Bucky ran his fingers through his dark hair, flicking it off the collar of his shirt and scratching at the back of his neck and looking actually  _ uncertain _ , as if there was a possibly that Steve wasn’t interested. 

 

As if he didn’t realize he was sex on two legs, and that the only reason Steve felt any hesitation was because this guy was a total stranger and Steve’s history with one-night stands was, categorically, abysmal.

 

“Yeah,” Steve decided. “I’m a sucker for hideous carpet.”

 

Bucky grinned.

 

“When you say you’re a  _ sucker _ for-”

 

Steve flushed, and Bucky laughed.

 

“Hey,” Bucky held out a hand, and Steve slid his palm into Bucky’s larger, warm, calloused grip. Bucky tugged him close. “Mind if I kiss you?”

 

“No,” Steve said, and couldn’t help but hold his breath as Bucky smirked again and leaned down and-

 

It was light, teasing, just a smooth brush of Bucky’s lips over Steve’s that nevertheless made him shiver and lean forward in a silent plea for more.

 

“Speaking of suckers,” Bucky said, lips still close to Steve’s, “I was kinda hoping you’d let me do the honors. You want to reciprocate, I won’t argue, but I’ve been wondering what your dick would feel like in my mouth all night.”

 

Steve’s flush turned into what felt a lot like scarlet fever.

 

His face was practically on fire - he could feel his  _ ears _ burning - and Bucky was still so close, still just smirking as cockily as ever and-

 

Steve stood up on his toes to catch Bucky’s smirk against his mouth, kissing him until Bucky let out a little gasp and Steve teased his tongue into the other man’s mouth, tasting whiskey and heat and something that made Steve want a hell of a lot more. 

 

He felt Bucky’s hands around his waist, hauling him closer, fitting him against Bucky’s larger, muscular frame, and Steve really, really wanted to ride the other man, wanted-

 

“Hotel. Now.”

 

Bucky grinned and stepped away, lacing their fingers together again.

 

“As you wish, sweetheart.”

 

-o-

 

Bucky hadn’t been kidding about wanting to have Steve’s dick in his mouth.

 

The door to the room wasn’t even closed when Bucky dropped to his knees on the as-promised hideous carpet and reached for Steve’s fly.

 

Steve wasn’t even hard, not really, but Bucky didn’t seem to mind as he dragged Steve’s jeans and his briefs down his thighs and to his ankles before scooting close and nuzzling Steve’s cock with his cheek, his mouth, flicking out his tongue to taste while one hand stroked the very rapidly-growing length and his left hand curved around Steve’s right hip, holding him in place with a firm grip.

 

“Fuck,” Steve breathed as he looked down at Bucky, at his eyes dark with desire and cheeks flushed as he slid Steve’s cock between his lips and made a sound that was between a moan and a hum and not at  _ all _ fair.

 

“Jesus fuck, Bucky.” Steve had to lean back against the door as Bucky sucked on his dick, looking for all the world like it was a gift to be kneeling at Steve’s feet.

 

Steve threaded his fingers through Bucky’s hair and gave an experimental roll of his hips.

 

Bucky groaned, and Steve had never seen anyone look so blissed out just sucking dick.

 

He fucked into Bucky’s mouth - slow, shallow thrusts that had both of them moaning and clutching at each other.

 

Bucky’s right hand drifted down to Steve’s balls, cradling them and fondling them while Steve unsuccessfully fought back a whimper, and then Bucky’s hand was straying further, teasing Steve’s perineum, pressing just so, and Steve saw stars and groaned.

 

“Bucky- Bucky, this is- Fuck- I’m gonna- It’s too soon. Just-”

 

But Bucky didn’t seem to care at all. He just gripped Steve’s right hip harder and pressed his thumb against Steve’s hole, and Steve gave a jerky thrust and came.

 

He had to close his eyes, knew his death grip on Bucky’s hair had to be less than comfortable, but the other man just stayed on his knees, gently sucking on Steve’s cock, holding his hips steady as Steve shuddered and tried to remember how to fucking  _ breathe _ .

 

“Oh my god,” Steve finally managed to pant. “Sorry. I-”

 

“What the fuck are you apologizing for?” Bucky let go of Steve’s dick with a wet, sloppy pop, and Steve sucked in a breath at the feel of the cool air hitting his sensitive skin.

 

“Coming so soon. It- I-”

 

“I’m gonna take it as a compliment, sweetheart. But if you feel that badly about it, I can think of a few ways for you to make it up to me.”

 

Steve snorted a laugh and kicked free of his shoes, jeans and underwear. He felt himself flush again as Bucky watched, arousal still in his eyes and his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

 

Steve pulled his t-shirt over his head as well, forced himself to meet Bucky’s gaze and- 

 

There it was. The frown.

 

The reason why Steve fucked in the dark.

 

Bucky rose to his feet, hands ghosting over Steve’s skin, from his hips up to the scar on Steve’s chest from the heart transplant surgery he had had as a teenager, thumb pressing lightly over the skin, but Bucky kept going, stopping at the long-ago healed bullet wound just above Steve’s right clavicle.

 

“This should have killed you,” Bucky murmured.

 

Steve snorted.

 

“My whole life should have killed me,” Steve retorted.

 

Bucky frowned, still rubbing over the spot.

 

“Who did it to you?”

 

There was a tone, a note of… something in Bucky’s voice that had Steve prickling.

 

“A guy who got what was coming to him,” he gritted out.

 

Bucky’s eyes - gray, Steve realized, and thought it was a little late to be realizing the exact color of Bucky’s eyes since he had already had his dick in the guy’s mouth - flashed.

 

“Yeah?” Bucky smirked. “‘Course you took care of him.”

 

He leaned his head down, kissed the scar and then lapped at it before licking a trail up Steve’s throat, kissing along his jaw and teasing Steve’s earlobe between his teeth until Steve hissed and arched into him.

 

“Can I fuck you, sweetheart?”

 

Bucky’s tone, the way the words practically vibrated through Steve, the goddamn cologne he was wearing - it was all heady stuff.

 

Steve grabbed Bucky’s shoulders.

 

“You’d better.”

 

Bucky grinned and stood up, let Steve undress him with unsteady fingers, eyes still dark, smirk still on his face.

 

The man was a marvel - skin smooth and sculpted, and the tattoo on his left arm went all the way up to his shoulder, and there were scars, here and there. They looked like knife wounds, although a few looked like bullet wounds, and Steve catalogued all of them, and the part of him that never stopped thinking wondered what the fuck Bucky had done to earn all of them.

 

Maybe ex-military? 

 

Steve reached for Bucky’s pants, and the other man stopped him, hands covering Steve’s.

 

“Let me just say it one more time,” Bucky said.

 

“Say what?”

 

Steve could see the outline of Bucky’s cock in the tight denim, and he felt a physical ache for the damn thing.

 

“You’re gorgeous.”

 

“You’re a fucking jerk. I’m not gorgeous.”

 

Bucky’s hands tightened.

 

“Steve.”

 

With a sigh, Steve looked up and met Bucky’s gaze.

 

“You walked into that bar and I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. You’re gorgeous. And  _ then _ I started talking to you.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. And you got over-”

 

“Jesus Christ, you’re a punk. Let me finish. You are the prettiest, sassiest little shit I’ve ever met.”

 

Steve had to laugh, because Bucky looked so genuine - so clearly  _ meant _ the words, and even meant them as a compliment.

 

“I-”

 

Steve’s phone rang. 

 

He had programmed Clint Barton’s number into the phone after one of their shooting range contests, months ago, but ever since getting the notification that he was transferring out to work for Barton, Steve had changed the ringtone and message notifications. And-

 

Clint Barton was calling him.

 

“I need to get that.” Steve dropped his hands away from Bucky’s and rooted around the pile of his clothes for his phone.

 

“Rogers,” he answered.

 

“Hey, look, I know you weren’t supposed to start working until tomorrow, but we, uh, found the rest of Ramirez. In a baggy. On our doorstep. With a note from none other than the Winter fucking Soldier, Pierce’s number one enforcer.”

 

“Fuck.”

 

“Yeah. Look, we’ve got surveillance video of the guy near Fremont Street.”

 

“Which guy?”

 

“The Winter Soldier. James Barnes. I know I was gonna give you the briefing on him tomorrow, but- Any chance you can meet me in the lobby of the El Cortez as soon as possible? Hoping we can corner him for a nice little chat.”

 

Steve felt his stomach drop.

 

“Your surveillance has him at the El Cortez. Right now?”

 

“Yep. Our guys said he picked up some twink at a bar - took him on a fucking date or something, and now they’re at the Cortez. I’m gonna be there in about five minutes. What’s your ETA?”

 

Steve looked over at Bucky, who was frowning at him, probably not able to hear the phone call, but-

 

“About the same. See you there.”

 

Steve hung up the phone and faced Bucky.

 

“Bucky - what’s your full name?”

 

The other man arched an eyebrow.

 

“James Barnes. Why?”

 

Steve ran a hand over his face and groaned.

 

This.  _ This _ was why he didn’t have one-night stands. Catastrophic. Every. Single. Fucking. One. Of. Them.

 

“Because I’m Special Agent Steve Rogers with the FBI Criminal Enterprise Branch, and my boss is on his way here to ask you a few questions.”

 

“We have enough time for me to fuck you or-”

 

“Are you out of your mind? I’m in the FBI, and you- You’re a fucking- You’re one of the most infamous enforcers in HYDRA!”

 

“Allegedly,” Bucky said with a smirk.

 

“Allegedly, you’re a fucking criminal who murders people.”

 

Bucky’s smirk faded.

 

“Oh, yeah? Well, Special Agent Steve Rogers, allegedly your job is to protect people. But-”

 

There was a knock on the door.

 

Both men froze. 

 

This was bad.

 

This was so, so, so, so, so fucking bad.

 

Bucky rolled his eyes and started to rebutton his shirt.

 

“Hide in the bathroom. I’ll let them escort me downstairs, and you can… do whatever the fuck you need to do.”

 

That was surprisingly decent, and Steve was left standing naked and confused.

 

“Jesus. Put some clothes on, Special Agent.”

 

Bucky kissed him, lips firm and rough and his tongue tangling with Steve’s, and fuck everything but Steve wanted the kiss to last forever.

 

But then Bucky stepped away, and Steve pulled on his clothes and- 

 

And reality left Steve sweating and his stomach twisted in knots, because what the fuck had he just done?

 

-o-

 

TBC?????

  
  



	2. Outline for the rest of the fic that I am never going to write.

Okay, so prologue is all the things   
Ch1 is steve joining them downstairs and Bucky being sassy as all fuck and calling him doll and sweetheart and Clint is like you know what, you wanna continue this conversation upstairs in your room with your little piece of ass we can. Or something. And anyway they ask about Ramirez and Bucky says you need to get a better caliber of thug or a better kind of cop. And then there was something on his note of course.   
  
Okay. So the general outline of things:   
  
-Clint runs this task force that wants to take down HYDRA and Pierce   
-Bucky is the guy Pierce uses when he wants to send a message. And Bucky... was a kid who got into trouble, and Pierce got him into more trouble but also saved his sisters and his family so Bucky feels like he owes him, and looking around, the world is shit anyway. At least he knows where he stands with Pierce. Or something along those lines. Also maybe drugs are involved because that kind of goes in line with the winter soldier brainwashing? I dunno. Dark as FUCK though.   
  
So Clint runs the task force, Sam works for him too. Natasha... she’s a double agent, embedded in Pierce’s organization for YEARS and only Clint knows she’s one of them and everyone thinks she’s an accountant and arm candy. I need to find a way for her and Clint to meet on the regular. Anyway.   
  
So. They find out that Ramirez was a dirty cop.    
  
Bucky shows up at Steve’s apartment, maybe like leaves him fucking flowers or something. I dunno.    
  
Anyway. They meet back at the neon museum a few times. They talk. They drive out to the desert and they fuck in car because of course they do.   
  
So Steve is investigating and he runs into Natasha and that’s a whole experience.   
  
Steve also gets his ass kicked by Rumlow and crew at some point, and later Bucky shows up to see if he’s okay and they have a fight.   
  
Later. More dead ends. Clint and Steve get a beer and Nat shows up wherever they are and Clint goes over and Steve thinks they are flirting and is all like... dude... and Clint is all shrugs and then says, dont think you’ve got a leg to stand on there buddy. And Clint says he knows about Steve and Bucky and asks Steve where he thinks thats going to go. And Steve... frankly has no fucking idea.   
  
Another Bucky and Steve thing, Bucky asking Steve what he thinks it means to be right or wrong and how you know and how Steve knows he’s right and it ends with Steve telling Bucky there’s no future in this, and Bucky saying he’s got no future in anything.   
  
Nat tracks down Steve and is like look, you’re going to get Bucky killed, and if that’s what you want, fine, but if you want a chance to take down Pierce and if you want Bucky to have a chance to walk away with his life, you need to stop trying to drop him. And Steve is all... wtf? And Nat tells him she’s an FBI agent.   
  
So Steve stews on that. He meets Bucky’s sister, Becca, randomly, and he GETS why Bucky is doing this and he has the brilliant idea - Bucky can become an FBI informant. Help them take down Pierce and walk away when this is over.   
  
One last Bucky and Steve encounter, and Steve tells Bucky his idea and Bucky just laughs and tells him no, this is the end of the line.   
  
And the next day Nat sends them an emergency text that Pierce has a deal going down - that Pierce will be PRESENT as will his top guys because of whatever, reasons and the FEDs show up and Pierce gets killed and the top guys get taken in and someone is about to shoot Steve and Bucky literally throws himself in front of the bullet.   
  
Epilogue, Steve visiting Bucky in prison.   
  
Because like, how the fuck ELSE does something like this end????????   
  


**Author's Note:**

>  
> 
> ALL of the thanks to my beta, Ro, and to the demon responsible for getting me obsessed with Marvel, CB


End file.
